1990

Alice tapped her feet nervously in the quiet underground station at Outram Park. It was late, and no one else was there. Ordinarily she would have taken a taxi cab home from work, since it was on the company dime, as was her taxi to work every morning. Being secretary to Mr. Richard came with certain perks. Most of the office girls thought it so glamorous, the way she’d stroll past them into her black and yellow taxi every evening at six o’clock. But times, Mr. Richard had said this morning with an apologetic British shrug, are getting leaner. And so it was announced after lunch today that the transport budget would be cut for everyone except key management, effective immediately.

This story is read by Brendon Fernandez.